


Fractured Reason

by Kateera



Category: Killjoys (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Smut, light Knife Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 08:07:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6366016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kateera/pseuds/Kateera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When life is spiraling into chaos, a chance encounter may give Dutch the control she needs to get back in the game, if she can handle the aftermath.(Mostly porn, light emotional stuff)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fractured Reason

**Author's Note:**

> Written for myself, shared for the enjoyment of others. Constructive feedback is always welcome. :)

Her breath came in short gasps as she rounded the corner, looking for any vantage point to make a stand against the men chasing her. Johnny and D’avin were safe in Lucy, waiting for her to get back to the ship, but she couldn’t shake her tail. No way was Dutch leading these security goons back to her boys or her ship and if she had to run in circles until she lost them, she would. This whole operation had been doomed the minute D’avin stepped into the main office and tripped some kind of alarm system. They’d been dodging guards and security cameras ever since. D’avin didn’t have an answer for her as to why or how he tripped the alarm but it brought every guard running.

_ I am going to kill that man _ .

Seeing an opening off to her left, Dutch slipped into the room, closing and locking the door behind her. She pressed herself against the cool metal and waited for the men to run by her, relaxing as they jogged past the room and out of sight. Resting her head on the frame, Dutch tried to figure out the point in which her life became so chaotic. There used to be a plan, a job to do, and a team she could count on. Now she was running, hiding, searching for clues to save Westerly, and trying to hold a broken team together.

“What exactly is your plan now?”

Dutch froze. Her eyes had been on the window along the wall, watching her pursuers, and not on the room behind her. As her heart stammered in her chest, she turned to see a dark office, lit only by the light from a single window, with Khlyen leaning against the low desk, his arms crossed and his head tilted in curiosity. He looked the same as always, every hair in place and his dark clothes immaculate. He smiled as she stared, a relaxed smile that to anyone else would have looked friendly and non-threatening. She knew better.

“What are you doing here?” Dutch asked, her pistol out and pointing before she finished speaking.

No one could have known about their infiltration of this office. Johnny had only learned of its existence a day ago and they’d only decided on the search hours before arriving. The Company had its hands in everything and since Khlyen kept a tight rein on the RAC and its secrets, Johnny suggested they might have better luck searching from the other side.

Khlyen smiled. “You aren’t going to shoot me so enough with the theatrics.”

She didn’t lower her gun but she risked a look out the window to see if any more guards were coming. The hallway looked deserted. Dutch didn’t hear him so much as feel him move. Khlyen glided behind her and pulled the gun from her hand before she could react. She cursed her chase through the corridors. All the running was enough to slow her reflexes and give him the upper hand. Grabbing the knife from her boot, Dutch turned and watched Khlyen dismantle her gun, leaving the pieces on the desk.

“What are you doing here?” She asked again, her frustration growing,  _ No way he’s in charge here as well. _

“Interesting question but I have a better one: How long do you have before they realize you’ve stopped running and start checking rooms?”

“As long as you have, I suspect,” Dutch said, earning another smile from Khlyen and confirmation that The Company didn’t know he was here either.

Walking back to the desk, Khlyen opened the top drawer and pulled out a slim metal pad. 

“Someone has to clean up when you do something as irrational as breaking into a top secret Company building. What were you hoping to find? A big door marked ‘Storage Room for Evil Plans’?”

“How did you even know we were here?”

“Tsk tsk, I always have a -how- for everything,” he answered with a flurry of taps on the pad. 

She glared but said nothing else, keeping her eyes on him as he walked back to her with that damned smile in place. They hadn’t been looking for a door of course, but she’d hoped for a trail of some sort that lead back to The Company’s plans for The Quad and where The RAC fit. She was tired of never having all the information. Johnny had grabbed as many files as he could before the guards showed up. With some much needed luck, he’d be able unscramble their encryptions and get answers.

“You might want to tell your Johnny to keep a better eye on the security feeds,” Khlyen told her, holding the glowing pad out. ”You were picked up by two cameras on your way in.”

Dutch rushed at him, kicking out at his knees while she brought her knife up to slash at his throat.

Khlyen sidestepped the attack, jerking her knife from her hands and throwing her to the ground. She rolled to her feet and then ducked to avoid the swing of his electric baton. Time slowed as everything inside Dutch focused down to throwing punches and kicks and avoiding Khlyen’s retaliations. She forgot how much this could feel like dancing. Strike, retreat, roll, strike. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. As much as she tried to keep time, Dutch knew she was losing ground. Her previous escapades were catching up with her and slowing her reactions. Anger flared as she ducked and rolled, never able to land a hit and barely managing to stay out of reach. He was toying with her, letting her use up all her strength before he put her on the ground again. Khlyen pushed forward, backing her into the wall as Dutch tried to fend off the flurry his of attacks. Her strength fading, her mind racing with  _ No, he’s not winning this one _ , she moved into his space and attacked him with the last thing he expected. She pressed her lips against his and felt his entire body flinch. His arms dropped and whatever attack he’d planned vanished from his mind. Pushing her away from him, Khlyen took a step back. Dutch ran at him with every ounce of her remaining strength, knocking him to the ground as he stared at her. He didn’t stop his fall, hitting the floor with Dutch landing on top of him. Without a thought to what she was doing or why, Dutch kissed him again. It wasn’t a nice kiss, full of anger and confusion, but she couldn’t stop the flare of heat low in her abdomen. At the touch of his hands at her waist, Dutch grabbed his arms and pinned them above his head, breaking off the kiss to make sure he couldn’t move. Staring down at him, she watched his eyes flutter with embarrassment, anger, adoration, and lust.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his low voice vibrating through her and sending shivers down her spine. But it wasn’t fear that curled inside her, she’d been scared of him plenty to know the difference. It held a different kind of breathless ache. Heat coursed through her veins as she searched his face for answers or questions or anything to make sense of this burning.

“Yala.”

“Shut up.”

Khlyen closed his mouth and Dutch shuddered with the force of his submission. Slower, waiting for the panic she was certain would kick in, Dutch released his arms and watched in amazed wonder as he kept them suspended above his head. He kept completely still as she inched closer, her hands close enough to wrap around his exposed throat. Dutch’s head spun with surges of conflicting emotions. Her nerves sang with greedy desire. Confusion warred with frustration and panic clashed with forbidden desire. This Khlyen, this quiet, waiting, serene man beneath her wrenched her soul towards temptation. She’d face the consequences later, alone and hidden in her room. At this moment, with his blue eyes asking nothing from her and his arms stretched above him like a sacrifice, she let herself take. Her lips crashed against his and a moan dragged itself out of her throat as he kissed her back. She ran her hands through his hair while his teeth caught on her lower lip and she arched her neck when he moved to nip along the tender skin of her throat. Returning to her mouth, Khlyen at last moved his arms, cupping her face with his hands while he pressed small light kisses against her swollen lips and brushed his thumbs over her cheekbones.

“No,” Dutch whispered.

Khlyen pulled back, letting his hands fall. A flash of pain darkened his eyes before vanishing behind a carefully bland expression. Her teasing smile changed the pain to anger and he lifted her away from him with a scowl.

She pushed him back down, still smiling. “I didn’t mean stop, just, too much and yet...not enough.”

Looking back at the door, she frowned and reality seeped into her mind. “They’ll start searching soon.”

“This is the vice president’s secret office. He’s the only one with a key.”

“The only one, is that right?”

“As far as he knows,” Khlyen said with a smirk and Dutch returned it, her mind reeling at the sexy promise wrapped in that smile.

  
  


She reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled the garment off. Khlyen wondered briefly if this qualified him for a special brand of hell. At the sight of her topless and smiling over him, Khlyen decided hell would be a small price to pay.

Pulling her down with his easy strength, Khlyen watched her eyes flutter while he caressed the soft skin of her back. “What do you want Dutch?”

“Everything,” she answered, panting with desire, and his laughter caught in his throat as she pressed her core against him.

It was her turn to laugh, relishing the newfound power she held over him. Khlyen’s eyes glowed bright and all laughter ceased as he surged forward. His hands tangled in her hair. His lips slid over her skin until he could capture her mouth in a bruising kiss. Her hands slid under his shirt, scratching at his chest with her fingernails. Her nails caught at his nipples and he gasped at the quick slice of pain. Biting at her lower lip in response, he shifted his hands and skimmed his knuckles across the undersides of her breasts. She bucked against his lap and drove her sex against his hard length. Any sounds they made were exchanged between tangled tongues and scraping teeth. Dutch smirked against his mouth and reached over him to grab her discarded knife. With careful movements, she slid the knife up his chest till it rested at the base of his throat. She watched him swallow against the steel, a flicker of something not quite _ fear _ dancing in his eyes as she held the blade steady. Starting at the top of his gray dress shirt, Dutch ran the knife under the small buttons, popping them off with small flicks of her wrist.

“I don’t have another shirt,” Khylen said but he made no move to stop the destruction.

Dutch flicked off the last button and drew her knife back up along his bare skin. The sharp edge scraped over a crisscross of long healed knife wounds and bullet holes, the marks of his long practiced trade. She watched the play of his muscles as he tensed with the strain of holding still. She carefully dragged her blade from his navel to chin, the point whispering over his flesh. A hissing voice slithered into her mind, reminding her of guilt and self-hatred while she drew the knife closer to his throat.

_ He’d never see it coming. Slit his throat and be done with him. _

His hips twitched, pressing his length into her center as she drew sharp steel over his taut skin and the voice crumbled to dust. She threw the knife into the leg of the desk. Grabbing Khlyen’s ruined shirt, Dutch pulled him up to meet her savage kiss and laced her fingers behind his head as she slid against his thighs. Dutch felt time slow as his hands settled at the small of her back, pressing her closer and deepening the kiss. At the first moan from him, Dutch placed her hands on his chest and slammed him back to the floor, never breaking her mouth from his. Grinding her sex against him, she whimpered at the growing pleasure-pain deep within her. She broke the embrace, her hands trembling while she moved to rid herself of the last articles of clothing between them.

“Dutch.”

Her name, her chosen name, sounded like a prayer slipping off his tongue and drove her past all reason. She slid off her black pants and undergarments in one movement, her boots stalling her progress for only a second as she stepped out of them. The dim light from the window glinted off her bare skin as she stood in front of him, a goddess in human form. Not giving him a chance to say anything, Dutch knelt down and set to work on the closure of his trousers. She cursed the tiny hidden buttons and glared at Khlyen for the inconvenience. His answering chuckle twisted something inside her and Dutch groaned in frustration. She needed something,  _ anything, _ other this torturous throbbing. Sensing her urgency, Khlyen drew her hands away and slipped out of the garment that offended her, throwing the fabric into a pile next her own discarded clothing. The air in her lungs felt heavy as she looked down at him, as if every molecule inside her stilled with the shocking beauty of him. The absolute attraction should have frightened her, should have set off warning bells in her head but Dutch exhaled in a rush of air, reacting to the pounding in her veins and ignoring what little self-preservation she had left. She fell on top of him, pushing his arms above his head and pinning his wrists to the floor. Her eyes found his and slick heat flooded through her at the adoration in his gaze. Keeping her eyes on Khlyen’s expression of wonder, Dutch lowered herself onto him and broke through the only boundary still between them. He filled her completely, fit perfectly inside her as she clenched around him.

“Khlyen.” It was her turn to breathe his name like a benediction while she let her body adjust.

Dutch felt the tendons in his wrists tighten while he struggled to stay still, fighting against his need for control. Keeping his hands trapped, she lowered her face to plant soft caresses to his closed eyes. She lifted herself up, slid back down, and reveled in the sound of his ragged moan. Her mind swirled in a blend of power and desire. With careful deliberate motions, Dutch rode against him while he battled his own natural instinct to take charge. The friction built inside her but release danced just out of reach. Freeing his hands, Dutch leaned back to and increased her rhythm. Her fingers twisted around her tight nipples to bring her body closer to the edge. Moving a hand between them, Khlyen located the small bud nestled above their joining and flicked his thumb across the sensitive bundle of nerves. She cried out his name as she fell apart, collapsing on top of him while she shuddered in ecstasy. With one arm wrapped around her waist to hold her in place, he flipped them over. Her soft whimper at the chill of the floor gave way to gasps of pleasure as he took over, thrusting steadily into her until a second orgasm burst through her nerves. Dutch threaded her fingers through his silver hair and swept her tongue into his mouth while his endless strength pushed her over the edge again and again. Lightning singed her nerves and twisted her limbs until she could barely breathe with the force of each release.

“Khlyen,” she said, her voice trembling, her mind unable to form any other word but his name, “Khlyen.”

He understood her plea, his hand rising to brush tendrils of hair from her face as he changed the angle of his thrusts. A tangle of words rushed from his lips in a language Dutch didn’t recognize and then his climax burst through his body. He pressed a kiss to her lips, still murmuring foreign words mixed with her name while he pulsed and shivered above her.

Dutch wrapped her arms around him, clutching at his body while she quaked with aftershocks. The world froze and cocooned them inside near silence; Dutch’s soft pants for air the only sound in the dark room. Khlyen rolled onto his back, pulling her with him so she draped across his chest. She buried her face in the crook of his shoulder and took long shuddering breaths as her heartbeat returned to normal. The rhythm of his heart thrummed in time with hers and she smiled against his skin.

Sense trickled into her mind. “I need to go.”

“Yes.”

She didn’t move.

“Dutch,” he said with a kiss to her head. “I need you to go.”

His voice rumbled with a strange and strangled tone. She looked up to watch tears trickle from the corners of his eyes, bright blue and shimmering.

“Why?” She asked before she could stop herself.

He laughed even as more tears fell. “This room won’t be searched but more guards will come if they can’t find you. You need to get to your ship before that happens.”

“What about you?”

“Is this concern?” He asked in retaliation and triumph warred with despair as she huffed and pulled herself off of him.

Sitting up, he watched her dressing in quick jerky movements and spoke before he could change his mind. “I’ll be right behind you. I still have a mission to finish outside of saving your team.”

She turned around, buttoning her pants as she gazed at him. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask about the mission, ask about everything while he sat unguarded in front of her. Reaching down, she grabbed his clothes and brought them over. She dropped them in his lap and walked to the desk, grabbing the com pad and recovering her knife from the leg of the desk.

Khlyen dressed quietly, watching as her mind analyzed and reached for a conclusion about what they’d done. He was prepared for anger, more threats to his life, disgust, and hatred. He had no illusions that this changed anything between them, just another mark against his soul. Walking back to him, she pulled his head down, pressed a kiss to his temple, and slipped out of the room without a word.

“Stay safe,” he whispered to the empty room.

He picked up his ruined shirt and hunted the floor for each button while mentally keeping track of how much more time Dutch would need to reach her ship. When he was certain she’d made it back to Lucy, he flipped the lights on in the little room, and waited for the vice president to arrive.

She reached Lucy shaky and out of breath, barely holding herself together while she moved to the cockpit and Johnny and D’avin bombarded her with questions.

“Dutch,” Johnny said at last, holding his hand up to silence D’avin. “What happened?”

She handed him the com pad. “Had to cover our tracks and lose the guards. Why aren’t we in the air already, Lucy?”

_ Leaving now, Dutch. _

Johnny looked over the com pad, his eyes widening. “Where did you get this?”

“The office I hid in, why?”

He looked up from the pad with a giant grin on his face. “I can use this to crack the encryption!”

He ran off with a final shout of “Suck it, Company” while Dutch stared after him in stunned silence.

_ You sneaky bastard. _

“Is that all that happened?” D’avin asked, his eyes searching her for signs of injury. “You look exhausted.”

“I’m fine, just need some sleep. Let me know when Johnny finishes with that com pad, all right?”

“All right.”

She didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to ease his mind with a joke or smirk but forced herself to give him a small smile before heading to her room. Every step reminded Dutch of what she’d been doing just minutes before, the friction sending jolts of pleasure to her already tender flesh. She closed the door to her room and took a shuddering breath. 

_ This is bad, this is so bad. _

She expected guilt and disgust to flood through her now that she was back on Lucy, now that she had faced Johnny and D’avin, but she felt peaceful, almost giddy from the recent events. Thinking of that little room and the heady feeling of Khlyen's submission, Dutch ran her hands down the front of her shirt and pressed a palm to her sensitive sex. She remembered where she was in time to choke back a moan while shock waves vibrated through her at the memory.

_ What am I doing?  _ S he thought as her body floated down from the small climax.   _What is wrong with me?_

She shook her head, unwilling to face the answers so soon, and stripped off her clothes. Collapsing on her bed, she prayed for sleep, sleep without dreams of him, without thoughts of what he could do to her, and without the overwhelming realization that she wanted so much more. 


End file.
